


Those Who Wait

by SoManyJacks



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Puberty, acne/skin problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyJacks/pseuds/SoManyJacks
Summary: Puberty was not kind to Yuri Plisetsky. When his skin gets out of control, he finds help in an unexpected place.
Relationships: Mila Babicheva & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 19
Kudos: 75





	Those Who Wait

When the last stages of puberty finally hit Yuri Plisetsky, they hit  _ hard.  _

It happened seemingly overnight, just after the Gran Prix Final in Barcelona. The first few months weren’t all bad, he had to admit. Granted, he could have done without the joint pain, but the additional height from his growth spurt was welcome. And his physique solidified, his muscles gaining heft and definition with little effort. Of course, he was ravenous constantly, but that was normal for an athlete at his level. 

He wasn’t just hungry for food, either. It wasn’t so much the constant libido so much as the random erections. He switched to an extra padded dance belt, just in case.

But the rest was unbearable. His voice was ridiculous. When he wasn’t hoarse, he was squeaking like a mouse. And yet his normal tone didn’t seem to be getting any deeper? If he had to go through all this bullshit, the least his larynx could do would be to settle into a nice smooth baritone. But no, he still sounded more or less the same, as far as he could tell.

The worst, though, was his skin. 

The first pimple was a complete surprise. He knew what they looked like on other people, but no one ever mentioned how much they hurt before they appeared. Yuri kept poking and prodding at the sore spots, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Was it ingrown hair? It kind of felt like that. 

Two days later his chin and cheeks erupted. His forehead followed soon after.

Yuri scrubbed his face morning and night, but it didn’t help. His skin felt tight all over and started to get flaky. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from picking at the acne either, even though he knew it was gross and he needed to stop. 

After a few weeks, he began to panic. Just a little. It wasn’t like anyone had mentioned it, but he knew his rinkmates noticed. 

If they were the only ones he needed to worry about, he wouldn’t care. But the European Championships were coming up in just over a month. And that meant that he'd be seeing Otabek again.   


Gulping down a half bottle of water, Yuri checked his phone after he was done training for the day. There was a message waiting. His stomach flipped over when he saw the notification, the same as it always did.

_ Laptop fixed yet? I’m around later.  _

Yuri stared at the message. His phone timed out. He swiped it back on and stared again. 

He was so intent on thinking of what to say that he didn’t hear the scrape of blades approaching. “Oooh, that’s a long face,” Mila said, leaning over the wall. “Is it Otabek?”

“Get lost,” Yuri muttered out of habit. 

Mila just laughed. “Touchy, touchy,” she grinned, skating away again.

Yuri stared at his phone some more. It was, indeed, a text from Otabek. That wasn’t so strange; they texted almost every day. And up until a few weeks ago, they video chatted several times a week. They still would, if Yuri hadn’t lied and said his laptop was broken so that Otabek wouldn’t see him looking like this. 

He stowed his phone without replying. Scowling, Yuri drank the rest of his water. Fucking Mila, coming over just to laugh at him. Easy for her to find it funny, with her perfect fucking hair and face and skin and --

Yuri blinked. Mila had fantastic skin. She  _ always  _ had fantastic skin, and Yuri had known her since she was fourteen. 

He glanced at the clock. Mila had another hour of practice. Plenty of time to learn her secrets.

Sneaking into the women’s locker room felt wrong, but Yuri’s disgust over his own skin was worse. If he got caught, he would just say he was pulling a prank. 

Anyway, it wasn’t like he was there to  _ steal  _ anything. He just wanted to look around. Unfortunately, it took way too long to find what he was looking for. He wasted almost twenty minutes opening random lockers before he realized that they were mostly empty. 

He finally thought to peek around the corner into the shower area, only to find that there were no showers in there at all. Apparently, the women had a whole extra room to get ready? There was a mirror which ran the length, with a long built-in shelf where they could sit and put on their makeup. The shelf was crammed with bags and makeup and hair stuff.

“Finally,” he whispered to himself. Mila’s coat hung on the back of one of the chairs. Yuri sat down. 

There was a LOT of stuff. He counted at least a half dozen tubes and bottles of lotion. One seemed to be specifically for elbows? A lot of hair stuff... a zippered bag of makeup, and another zippered bag of... different makeup? Also half the stuff had labels in foreign languages. There was a little box with a label in Korean with nothing but sheets of round, clear stickers in it.

“What the fuck?” He just wanted to see what kind of face wash she used, but there were three. No, four. Plus a packet of moist cloth things that smelled like grapefruit. And what was the difference between ‘toner’ and ‘serum’??

“Yurio? What are you doing?” Mila stood in the doorway.

“Fuck!” Yuri yelped, his voice breaking. There was no other exit to the room. He was trapped. “Why aren’t you in practice?”

She laughed at his attempt to be gruff. “I got out a bit early today.” She tilted her head. “Aww, do you need help with your makeup, Yuratchka?” she mocked, making a pouty face. “Why don’t you ask Georgi?”

“Shut up.” Even though they’d said far worse to each other hundreds of times, Yuri suddenly felt terrible: ashamed, humiliated, embarrassed, all of it. He felt his cheeks darken as he got to his feet and tried to push past her. He scowled, trying to cover how shitty he felt.

Apparently his attempt to look tough didn’t fool her. She blocked him from leaving, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yuri,” she said, her tone gentle. “Come on, don’t be a dick. What’s the matter?”

Oh no. No. There was  _ no way _ he was going to tell Mila anything. She’d probably tell the entire city. And yet, the sudden desire to confess, to lessen the burden by telling  _ someone _ was overwhelming. 

But who could he tell? Victor? He’d forget in thirty seconds, if he bothered to listen at all. Katsudon would be  _ too  _ understanding and kind and patronizing, plus then he’d probably want to tell Yuri  _ his  _ problems, which fuck no. The only person Yuri could talk to about this kind of thing was Otabek, and there was no way in hell that he was about to do that.

On top of feeling ashamed and horrible, Yuri realized he was lonely, too. He winced. “Out of my way, hag,” he mumbled, though there was no heat behind it.

Mila didn’t budge. “What were you looking for, anyway?”

_ “Nothing.” _

“And there’s no nothing in the men’s locker room?” She folded her arms. “Tell me what you were looking for, or I’ll tell everyone I caught you stealing.”

“I wasn’t  _ stealing!”  _ he shouted. “I was just... looking around.” Yuri couldn’t believe he was admitting this. Without realizing he was doing it, he touched his chin, feeling the ache of even more acne throbbing under his skin.

Mila’s eyes widened, then her face softened in understanding. “Ahhh. Are you worried about the tv cameras at the Europeans? Lots of men use foundation, it’s really no big --”

“Augh, no. I can’t wear it all the time,” Yuri whined. “And I can’t let him --” Wincing, he snapped his mouth shut. Why did he say that?? “Get out of my way,” he said again, trying to get past.

Mila stood her ground. “Ohhhhh, I see.” She nodded wisely. “That’s totally different. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Fuck that.” But Yuri stopped trying to leave.

Mila ignored him, pulling out her chair. “Sit.”

Hesitantly, Yuri complied.

She grabbed a hair tie and began smoothing his hair away from his face, paying no heed to his protests. Under the bright lights of the vanity, every blemish seemed to stand out in stark relief. It was gross.

Mila, however, seemed nonplussed. “Okay. First,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact, “what kind of soap do you use?”

Defeated, Yuri sighed, “I don’t know, the same kind for my body.”

Mila laughed, shaking her head. “There’s your problem. It’s drying you out.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Trust me. Does your skin feel tight after?” When he nodded, Mila did too. “Yeah, that’s bad. It’s inflaming your skin and making things worse. Now your face is trying to make even more oil to compensate. Use....” She paused, searching among the products before selecting a large bottle with a pump handle. “Use this one. It’s cheap, you can get it at any pharmacy. Get the gentle one, see?” She tapped the label. 

“Now, after that, you need to treat the blemishes. Hmm, your skin is already dry, so... I would go with this one.” Mila plucked a small round pot with a label in French. “This will help heal the ones that you picked,” she said, with no trace of judgement in her voice. “A little goes a long way. You can have that one, I have more at home. I don’t need it so much anymore these days.”

“What, really? I can have this?” Yuri said. Why was she being so nice to him?

“Oh sure. Now on the rest of your face, use this. It’s moisturizer with sunscreen.” Mila handed him one of the many tubes of lotion. “Not too much though! Just enough so your skin doesn’t feel tight. Now, you should do this morning and night, okay? And at night, after you wash, put these on any spots that look white and gross.” She handed him a sheet of the sticker things. 

“Stickers. On my face.” Yuri started to wonder if Mila was fucking with him.

“They’re magic, I swear. They suck all the gross junk out overnight, but you gotta put them on before you do the moisturizer or they won’t stick.” She seemed sincere, so Yuri took the sheet. “I get them online. If you want, I can order extra for you and you can pay me back.”

“Um. Okay?” It was a nice offer, as Yuri would have had a hard time hiding that kind of purchase. 

“Lastly, you should drink only water or unsweetened things. No juice. In fact, avoid sugar in general for a while and see if that helps. Eat more yogurt and sauerkraut. Change your pillowcase like every other day, and keep your hair off your face. And for the love of god, stop picking!” Mila grinned at him in the mirror. “Do all that, and Otabek won’t be able to look away.”

Yuri scowled at her, blushing furiously. “Shut the hell up.” He started to get up, only to have Mila hold him down by the shoulders. Damn, she was strong. 

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know. Anyway, no one cares. You don’t have to pretend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Mila rolled her eyes. “Grumpy, grumpy.”

Yuri sighed heavily, staring at himself in the mirror. It made him want to puke to see how terrible he looked. He looked like a freak. There was no way Otabek would want him like this. It was bad enough when Yuri was fifteen and still looked so young, but at least his skin was clear. Now that he was almost seventeen, he’d been really looking forward to seeing Otabek in person again, as an equal. But all this acne only proved that he was still a teenager. 

And Otabek was twenty. He was an adult, with a job and a motorcycle and a life. He had better things to do than wait around for Yuri to grow up. Probably he was just chatting with Yuri so much because he felt bad for him or something. 

It was a hopeless crush, but Yuri couldn’t help himself. “Just tell me this stuff will work, okay?”

Pulling out the hair tie, Mila picked up a brush and ran it through Yuri’s hair. It was kind of weird, but it felt nice. Reassuring. “It will. Give it a few weeks,” she said. “A wise man once told me that the best things in life come to those who wait.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” 

“You’re so impatient,” she chided him, clucking her tongue. “Lucky for you,  _ some  _ people have more patience than you.” It was clear from her tone that ‘some people’ included Otabek.

Would he, though? Maybe the sensation of having his hair brushed was too relaxing. Or maybe he was just tired from practice. But either way, Yuri couldn’t stop the self-loathing he’d been battling for the last few weeks from boiling over. He felt a weird tickle in his sinuses, like he was about to cry. Fuck that. He was _not_ going to cry in front of Mila. “Maybe. But not forever,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Mila tilted her head back and forth to acknowledge the point. “Maybe not. But we’re not talking about forever. And maybe he’s waiting for you to say something, didn’t you ever think of that?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Yuri felt his stomach flip over, this time in a good way. 

“I mean, maybe he doesn’t want to pressure you  _ because  _ he’s older. You’re only a few years apart though, right?” Mila stopped brushing and began to braid his hair. 

“Three,” Yuri confirmed. It was really closer to three and a half, but he wasn’t about to say that. It never occurred to him, but maybe Mila was right. Otabek was completely honorable. It was half the reason Yuri liked him so much. 

“Pfft, that’s nothing. You’re both of age, you’re equals on the ice, so... what’s the big deal?” She tied off the braid and patted his head as if he was a bunny.

“Don’t patronize me.” Yuri swatted her arm away. 

Mila just giggled. “Your hair looks really cute like this.” She pulled a few tendrils out around his face with a comb. 

He had to admit, she was right. Or rather, it would look good if his skin wasn’t cratered like the moon. “Ugh, I’m leaving.” He got up.

“Fine,” she said, sitting down in his place. She started to take her hair down from her bun, pulling out pins one after another. “Don’t forget all the steps. Text me if you have any questions.”

Yuri slunk out of the locker room, clutching his skin care products under his jacket. He was still embarrassed, but not as much as before. Of course, there was nothing preventing Mila from telling everyone what happened, but... maybe she wouldn’t? As long as the stuff she gave him worked, and Otabek didn’t find out, Yuri wasn’t sure he cared.

Then again, it didn’t solve the problem right away, either. Yuri really, really wanted to chat with Otabek again, but that would have to wait. Hopefully Otabek wouldn’t get impatient and write him off completely....

On his way out of the rink, Yuri heard Mila yell for him. Ugh, what else did she want? 

She jogged up to him in the parking lot. “I forgot this,” she said. She handed him a tube of skin-colored makeup. “It’s concealer. It won’t hide anything up close when you’re in person, but for, say, a video chat with bad lighting, it’ll be fine.” She winked.

Yuri looked down at the makeup in his hand. He swallowed hard. “You... won’t tell, right?”

“Oh, no, I’m telling everyone. I already bought all the ad space in the rink, the posters are going up tomorrow.”

Huffing at her joke, Yuri rolled his eyes and pocketed the concealer. He paused, then said, “Thanks.” 

“Don’t worry about it. You owe me one, Yurio.” She punched his shoulder, then jogged back inside.

Yuri watched her go, not really sure what he was thinking. Then he gasped, frantically searching for his phone. He sighed in relief to see that he hadn’t actually opened the text from before. He didn’t want Otabek to think he was being left on read. 

_ I’m around later too  _ he typed.  _ Catch you soon.  _

The reply was almost instant.  _ Can’t wait. Been too long. _

Yuri grinned, his heart pounding in his chest.  _ Yeah, can’t wait.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I haven't decided if I want to write more of this pairing, so I'm leaving this as a one-shot for now? Also those acne sticker things are THE BEST omg.


End file.
